An Excerpt From My One Man Play, ‘I’ve Got a Splinter’

[Lights up.]

[A man walks into the spotlight at center stage, lifting his left index finger up into the light. Gazing at the finger, squinting his eyes, and then letting out a SCREAM so painful, it shocks all who are within earshot.]

Man: “Ohhhhhh, woe is me. Thy finger, thy INDEX finger, is marred by the earth. The earth from which all life is bourne… The earth from which life reaches high… The earth which will someday fill in and around us, comforting and cradling our lifeless bodies until we can be returned to the soil and the soul. Such earth has attacked me. Attacked without reason. The pain screams out at me, stretching from this one INDEX finger in and around my every being.”

[The man lifts up his other hand, looking at a perfectly fine INDEX finger. He holds up the healthy index finger to the one that contains a huge wooden splinter.]

Man, Doing Voice of Healthy Index Finger: “Hello Index Finger. What seems to be the trouble?”

Man, Doing Voice of Not-So-Healthy Index Finger: “Agggggggttttthhhhhh.”

Man, Doing Voice of Healthy Index Finger: “Has something happened to you?”

Man, Doing Voice of Not-So-Healthy Index Finger: “Ohhhhhh, the pain!”

Man, Doing Voice of Healthy Index Finger: “I see thine pain now. Thou has been split in half by the sharpened edge of a horrific wooden staff!”

Man, Doing Voice of Not-So-Healthy Index Finger: “I long for the traumatic birth canal of my index finger mother — although painful and disheartening…at least that is nothing compared to my current trauma! I seek help from a kind soul! Are thou said kind soul?”

Man, Doing Voice of Healthy Index Finger: “Yeah, I don’t pick out splinters. Not sanitary. Besides, I need two other fingers to do a job like that and you really can’t count on the current lot I’m associated with.”

[The healthy index finger is curled back up into the man’s fist. He gazes up at the splintered soul…]

Man: “Ohhhhhhhh. Pain affects us all.”

[Lights Down on House.]

An Excerpt From My New Play, “The Falcon and the Snowman”

[A Falcon (played by an actor) lands on a tree branch above a Snowman (anchored in snow, and also played by a thespian of some kind.)]

Falcon: “Shreeeeeeeeeeeee!”
Snowman: “Excuse me?”
Falcon: “Caaaaaaaaaw caaaaaaaaaaaw.”
Snowman: “Caw, caw?”

[The Falcon nods, affirmatively.]

Snowman: “Still lost, buddy.”
Falcon: “Hreeeeeeeeeeee!”
Snowman: “One more time.”
Falcon: “Hreeeeeeeeeeee!”
Snowman: “Hre?”

[The Falcon nods, affirmatively.]

Snowman: “Yeah, still gonna have to plead ignorance on that one too.”

An Excerpt From My New Period Play, “Shot Through The Heart in The Year 1878”

One man stands menacingly over another, who grasps his chest in pain.

Man #1: “Good god, man. I’ve been shot!”
Man #2: “Through the heart, ol’ chap.”
Man #1: “As God is my witness, you sir are to blame!”
Man #2: “Oh, is that so.”
Man #1: “Tis indeed so, sir. You have nothing but hatred to hurl forth.”
Man #2: “So what are you trying to say, then? I embrace hate?”
Man #1: “Tis correct! And you give love, a bad name.”
Man #2: “Unfortunate you think such is true. But I’ve played my part.”
Man #1: “If by that you mean you’ve played my game, then I concur.”
Man #2: “You’re losing an awful lot of blood.”
Man #1: “As I’ve been shot through the heart.”
Man #2: “Oh, is that so.”
Man #1: “Tis indeed so, sir.”

An Excerpt From My New Play, “Bringing Sexy Back”

Lights up.

[A man and woman sit opposite each other at a small, quaint cafe — sipping delicate glasses of wine.]

Man: “And then I graduated from Princeton in June. I had a wonderful experience, that’s for sure.”
Woman: “So what are your plans now that you’re out?”
Man: “Oh, I plan on bringing sexy back.”
Woman: “Bringing…sexy what-?”
Man: “Bringing. Sexy. Back.”
Woman: “From where?”
Man: “What do you mean, from where?”
Woman: “You said you’re bringing sexy back. From where?”
Man: “Darling, it’s a metaphor. I’m not technically physically carrying sexy back.”
Woman: “Oh. So, um — what do you mean then, when you say you’re bringing sexy back?”
Man: “How’s the wine?”
Woman: “Don’t change the subject.”
Man: “Fine. What’s your question.”
Woman: “What do you mean by saying you’re bringing sexy back?”
Man: “You know how the 70’s were very sexy?”
Woman: “Were they?”
Man: “Disco. Remember?”
Woman: “Oh, right. Disco. Okay. So you’re bringing disco back?”
Man: “Nooo. You know how disco had that sexy feeling to it?”
Woman: “I guess.”
Man: “Well, can you remember the last time, since the 70’s, that society had that kind of sexy going on?”
Woman: “The 80’s had a lot of sexy in it.”
Man: “The 80’s. Sexy? C’mon now.”
Woman: “I thought the 80’s was sexy.”
Man: “You thought Tom Cruise was sexy.”
Woman: “So?”
Man: “So not sexy.”
Woman: “Fine. So what steps do you need to take to bring sexy back?”
Man: “No steps. You just bring sexy back. It just happens.”
Woman: “Just like THAT?”
Man: “Sexy just sort of brings itself back.”
Woman: “So, technically — you’re not really bringing sexy back. You’re accompanying sexy back since it sort of can come back on its own?”
Man: “I’m sort of like sexy’s chaperone.”
Woman: “And when is sexy coming back, just so I know?”
Man: “Next Thursday. 3pm.”
Woman: “I can’t wait.”
Man: “Yeah. Me neither. Bringing sexy back, baby! Woo hoo!”
Woman: “Woo. Hoo.”

Lights down.

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Excerpts From Dick Cheney’s Children’s Bedtime Stories (Publishing Date, Fall ’07)

“…and little Goldilocks tasted the first porridge and it was too cold. And then she tasted the second porridge and it was just too hot. And the third bowl of porridge? Can you guess what Goldilocks thought when she tasted it? No, it was also too cold but even though the porridge and the beds provided unliveable conditions, Goldilocks had friends who could re-make the food, and re-build the beds, and if she made sure they got the jobs to do such work…she would be well taken care of…”

“And I’ll huff and I’ll puff and I’ll blow your house down,” screamed the wolf to the pigs. On the inside, the pigs stood strong. This was their home. They weren’t going to let some windbag wolf destroy everything they’d worked for their entire life. They built this house to withstand simple gale force winds! And so the three little pigs hunkered down and yelled back to the evil old wolf to go ahead and do his best. To go ahead and blow all he wanted because they weren’t going anywhere. And so the wolf blew and he blew…and he blew their entire house down, destroying everything in one full swoop. The pigs, of course, learned that when someone as powerful as a wolf gives you a chance to surrender, you do it before he destroys your entire home and pillages your natural resources.”

“And Jack’s mother was horrified, sending him to bed without any supper. For how had he been so stupid? Buying those magic beans with all the money they had? And without consulting her in the first place? Buying magic beans with your own money is one thing, but when there’s other people who get lumped into your decision-making process simply by association or because they happen to be right there next to you, like Jack’s mother — well, it not only makes the magic bean buyer look stupid, but it also makes the guy, er, mother — look stupid too. So the moral of the story is you don’t ever buy magic beans with money that isn’t yours, especially if your mother told you in the first place to take that money, make it disappear through other secret channels, then use it in the way you originally planned without ever getting caught in the first place.”